Lethal Thought
by Reef-Shark
Summary: Human and Covenant soldiers' stories connect through a series of battles and social corruption as a marine finds himself under the control of a malevolent force. Greed, revenge, and lust connect as careers lead to personal downfall.
1. Chapter 1

**Warning: **This is a story of mature subject material and may move to the M-rating in the near-future.

**Chapter 1**

**Skirmish at Gilterfig**

**Part 1: Like Simple Clockwork **

_Everything that happened that October afternoon was like a dream of military splendor, something like what you'd see some big shot movie star accomplish on the screen, only when the good guys when in the movie you cheer, but when you win in my reality you don't even say a compliment, or a "hoorah." Everything here was just so fucked up; even if you couldn't see that you heard it. I found every single second of these experiences so calm, so quiet, even with the sound of weapons going off in every direction, the moans of the wounded, or dying, human and not, they all came out, loud, but everything just seemed quiet. We acted like we didn't care, like what happened around us was nothing, except another day of life, but we did care. _

_Yes, this was all like a dream, but not my dream, or that of my friends. It was my father's dream, one that he would've loved to have lived through. What happened that day would've been his idea of a wet dream, with enough death and chaos to make the entertainment industry squirm in their pressed slacks and suits. Yeah, that's what it was like, and I wanted no part in this dream, because everyday someone dies, and no matter what you think about the person the impact is felt. The impact came from the increasing knowledge that defeat was inevitable. _

_They were beating us, and there wasn't a fucking thing that could be done about it. _

_-----_

The sky was dark this October afternoon in the barren wastes of _Progress_; smog having concealed the sun of the industrious city of Gilterfig, painting the sky black, with blotches of red, creating a certain light which only distracted from the world below. Mighty factories had stopped spewing their waste from those stacks, but the damage had been done to the planet's atmosphere decades ago, and couldn't be undone. Even when the planet would burn, snap, and sputter it would still have does skies. These were the distinct skies of human industry.

Gilterfig was the largest colony of the planet of Progress (the capital), located in the outer reaches of Human Space. Progress had been established as a world where cheap, mostly machine labor, would supply the other outer worlds with goods such as plastic and iron, and each of its twelve cities, or colonies as the UNSC cataloged them, worked on processing different materials, which were shipped to them from the rural planets near the system; ones not worth mentioning on the UNSC catalog.

Here they could handle everything from food to steel, but they still weren't much a weapon manufacturer, and at this stage that was the only industry of real importance to the human race, who had been in bloody conflict for over a decade with a superiorly equipped alien opponent.

_Progress_ was hardly worth much in the ways strategic value, but either way it'd become host to a skirmish between the alien forces of the Covenant, and a detachment of UNSC Marine Corps. Three of religious cult's ships had deployed on the planet (hardly a large attack force by Covenant standards), but since _Progress_ had no stationed guard they didn't need much to begin destroying the planet. Only four cities stood at this point, and all production had come to a close. The planet could've been glassed by this point if it weren't for the nearby detachment of human forces, which were given the go ahead from command to engage their foe in combat above the, and on the surface of Progress.

When they engaged the enemy they soon discovered that the intent of the force was not to destroy _Progress_ – immediately – but in fact it was to discover information on the human controlled systems. Command portions of the UNSC were alarmed by the notion, not wanting the battle to come knocking on their doorsteps on _Reach_ or Earth, so the small detachment of five UNSC Frigates, and their marine personnel, which had originally been intended to assist the primary UNSC fleet in the area was sent to engage the enemy on the industrial world. Dropping their primary marine force to the surface by the use of 77-Troop Carrier Dropships (more commonly known as Pelicans) they soon engaged the small Covenant orbital force.

Since this planet wasn't of much value to the community as a whole the human media had yet to broadcast information regarding the battle on a universal basis, regarding it as another useless story which would only further drag down the hopes of the population. The defeats at the hands of their extraterrestrial adversaries were only increasing in number, and bringing up another loss would only further diminish the moral of the human forces back home in the key defensive worlds. If the general people didn't know a thing about _Progress_ then they wouldn't be upset about its loss, so this is why the decision not to notify the people of the engagement was approved by all executives of the controlling government.

Two days into the conflict the Covenant orbital attack was beginning to waver, retreating from the well organized human frigate cluster, leaving much of their ground force behind. William Defoe, a veteran tactician of the UNSC fleet, had been the commanding officer, and this small victory was met with cheer by the crew of all five vessels. Soon after their initial retreat, of course, the honor driven species which commanded most Covenant military operations had wheeled back around to redeploy against the human ships, but Defoe had anticipated this, since everyone knew the Covenant _Elites_ (as the marines liked to call the species) would never leave a force of their own kind behind in a hostile environment. They met again, and a human frigate, _Hopeless Devotion_, was lost, but so was one of the Covenant vessels and from there the enemy leader pulled back once again.

Now concerned about a large Covenant counterattack the UNSC has issued for the marines to evacuate all civilians on Progress, and the termination of any and all information regarding the whereabouts of the core planets, considering the likely outcome if the Covenant should get it and launch an attack on the human key worlds. Defoe agreed to this, knowing how lucky he was that he hadn't been forced against overwhelming numbers, or a single Covenant Capital Ship throughout the entire span of the fight. Soon he detached a force to start the process of evacuation and termination of core knowledge. By the time the Covenant returned they'd be met with their own dead and all useful date wiped clear from the planet; the planet would be a spent shell. It was shaping up to be a small victory for the UNSC, but a victory nonetheless. It was a good plan, but you could never tell the result until the end of the day.

-----

In Gilterfig, on this October afternoon a single Pelican travels across the sky, hovering a small distance from the rooftops and the s pipes of the factories below, which now no longer polluted the air with chemicals, and the machines that worked below all lay still and silent. A large Covenant strike force was within the city and it was a race against time to beat them to processing network and the endless streams of coordinates and data contained within. Only utter extrication of the enemy species would bring them piece of mind, and that's just what they intended to do.

This Pelican was entitled _Bravo 012, _and she carried fifteen of humanity's best, all having served a year or two in combat. They were set to be deposited near the enemy position on the road cutting across the city, the dropship being hidden behind the many large industrial structures. Once they'd landed they'd make their way into one of the processing plants overlooking the aliens' stronghold. From there the sniper teams could take position on the roof and balconies, where they could provide support for the primary assault, which would be arriving shortly after they'd deployed and secured the facility.

It was simple plan, but with the Covenant forces cut off from their frigates, and most of their own dropships out of commission they couldn't really counter the attack without outmaneuvering human forces, and that seemed unlikely to say the least. Their plans were to make quick work of their foes, and abandon the planet as soon as possible to rejoin the primary fleet. They mustn't leave any clues for the enemy fleet. The goal was to leave long before the enemy arrived, and they'd never be traced back to the central fleet.

-----

Inside the dropship a soldier sat, legs straight, and head tilted down in the direction of the plates which protected his thighs. Corporal Luke Gladstone wasn't the pinnacle of human fitness, and as he sat and waited in the cabin of Bravo 012 he wondered how it was that he ended up in the positions to begin with. He was tall, thin, and his skin was incredibly pale, even with the immense amounts of time he spent in the sun. His face was beaten down, flat and uninteresting, with his brown hair cut short and spiked in the front by trace amounts of grease. His father, a strong countryman and long serving veteran of the UNSC, had often referred to him as a ground dwelling individual, who'd much rather spend his time out of trouble and within the confines of his room, engaged in literature and theatrics than get out and play sports with the other kids. This wasn't true, but then again Lieutenant Harry Gladstone had never been one who visited his son on a frequent basis; a majority of the time being on tours of duty, or involved in campaigns against rebellions, and even a few campaigns at the beginning of the Human Covenant War. With his mother, Luke had led a very stationary, lonely existence, until the time he'd joined the UNSC at the start of the war. That had been one of the few times his father had actually seemed proud of him…and the first time Luke had felt depression course through his veins.

Carrying a BRR5 Battle Rifle, as opposed to the commonly used MA5B Assault Rifle, Luke made sure to go over his plan. He wasn't a part of the sniper team, but he was still important to this mission. Instead of supporting the main attack he'd be securing the bottom level of the factory, trying to find any refugees, if time permitted. A boring job, but one that had to be done; Luke would never complain about a job that kept him out of harm's way. Sure the snipers would get all the credit for this step of the operation, but Gladstone was perfectly content covering their backs, so long as he was mostly out of harm's way.

Gladstone was a part of one squad and worked with Privates Gomez, Quinn, Tate, and Sheen, and had done so for quite some time now, so this operation wasn't very difficult for them to organize. While the sniper's made their way up the stairs they'd make sure a Covenant counterstrike wouldn't make its way into the building, and they get a connection to the building's monitors so they could transmit all the data to the human flagship. They'd be out of enemy sniper range, and they'd be able to stay behind concrete walls, if there wasn't a better place to be they'd be hard pressed to find it.

Since they didn't know the strength of the enemy strike force located on the other side of the factory they didn't want to take any foolish chances; you never were to underestimate the aliens, even if the odds were in your favor. This enemy force could match, or surpass the marines in number, and that had to be taken into account during the planning stages of this operation. Actually, not so much their total number as much as it was total _Elite_ numbers; every other species in the caste wouldn't provide much difficulty.

"ETA is two minutes, hope you all know what you're doing," Bravo 012's pilot, Johnny "War Hawk" Henderson, said over the com system.

_Johnny was a good man, always got the job done right._ Luke acknowledged this announcement by sliding in the first clip into his rifle with a solid click.

"I want this to by the book," Sergeant Ashton stated aloud, un-strapping himself from his harness, walking across the cabin eyeballing each marine intently. "Snipers, your priorities are enemy sharpshooters, stationary gun operators, and anyone of them that looks like they're of any importance. Until we have an idea of their numbers Command does not want is to waste ammo. That means don't get one of the little ones unless they're behind the controls of somethin'; leave those bastards to the ground teams. Look for bright colors and shoot to kill."

_Kill, kill, kill them all._ It's what they all had been trained to do.

-----

Bravo 012 set down on the street in front of the plastic processing plant at 15:23. It was only a matter of seconds before the entire group had hopped out, spreading out to clear the LZ. Wasn't long after the last one hopped out that Henderson wheeled his bird up and sped off down the streets again. _The war hawk was now on the prowl_. Once out of range of the nearby Covenant position he took to the skies, going off to connect with the other dropships, which would soon come to deploy the marine attack force.

Now alone the human force spread out. There were five sniper teams, being groups of two, while the five that Gladstone was a part of made their way towards the main entrance to the structure. _Little pigs, little pigs…_

_Don't you want a pie? It's such a lovely day for fun, so come on in and join me. _

Leading his squad forward Luke and his marines were the first inside, spreading out across the lobby, looking for any sign of an enemy presence within the vicinity of the compound. While he examined the surroundings, the sniper teams and two members of his command moved up the main stairwell to proceed with the operation. _Go out, spread out, get out, die alone_, that was always the plan, wasn't it?

-----

Once on the second floor the group consisting of Privates Gomez and Quinn moved out to a white hallway. Quickly they moved down this passage, knowing exactly what it was they were looking for, but keeping their weapons handy just in case a _Covenant_ surprise was in store for them. After going down the hall for about thirty seconds they found a large, white, glass door which read: _**Security – Authorized Personnel**__**Only**__._ Using her rifle Quinn quickly bashed through the barrier.

_The glass, the glass, it's in my eyes, mommy. Won't you pull it out? _

Walking in they found a large layouts of monitors, all of which were connected to the surveillance cameras for the surrounding environment. Private Gomez was quick to approach the large computer, swift to crack open the outer casing and begin running steel instruments over the exposed wiring.

"Get ready to transmit," Gomez muttered to his companion as he ran his gloved fingertips across a series of outlets, which connected to the various wires running through the consuls

.

"Sure thing, Skippy," she replied idly looking out the door as she set down a large pack which had been slung over her shoulder with a clunk.

When Gomez found the right slot he plugged in a wire of his own into the console, which in turn connected to a tripod mounted device carried by Private First Class Quinn, who unraveled a long length of cord before running it out to the second floor's balcony. She worked at setting up the mount and spread out a transmission dish. She fiddled with the instrument for awhile before green lights flashed repeatedly, and _Active Transmission_ shone bright on its side. Now all information, and camera feed from the station was being relayed back to the frigate _Jamestown_. Step Number One was now complete. Time to move on to their second step: securing the factory, and looking for refugees in need of rescue.

_Tell everyone about the joyous news. It's just a party down here!_

_----- _

While the connection was being established Gladstone, accompanied by Tate and Sheen inspected the lobby, which was at the entrance directly facing the street where they'd entered. _Glass doors didn't help their defense_. . They'd have to block up the door with something, and get a nice set of barriers near the windows. Not that the enemy would try pushing in, unless they'd grossly miscalculated the enemy's numbers. If they got this far and predictions were correct they'd be in full retreat and have no intention of engaging the facility.

"Let's get these couches up on the door and the windows," Luke announced, "we'll make a shooting gallery out of this and take them as they come out…if any make it here at all."

"Gladstone," Tate shouted from the receptionist desk, "what do we do when they come down the road, exactly?"

"We shoot them down as they run by, and make sure any counterattack doesn't make its way inside; the snipers are the priority, so we're here to make sure nothing gets them from behind. Until then, we wait and see if we can find any survivors."

_So many places to hide, but only one where you will see me. _

Moving behind the receptionist desk Gladstone shoved Tate aside and clicked the keyboard of the computer absent mindedly. The desktop came to life with a background of a flower covered field. Luke stopped to look at it, having not seen a peasant landscape in a long while. After a minute the screen turned black and _**Save me**_ flashed across the screen. Below it waited for someone to reply to the text. A message, sent over the computer's connection. Someone knew they were here, but how? It didn't matter, someone needed help. _You are required to save all refugees, anyone in need, but you need to do it now before you must fall back. _

_Save me, won't you, oh knight in shining armor. Oh, Luke, you shall come to me, I know you will save me, Luuuuuuuke. _

-----

The Covenant force's place of refuge was a tire factory on the eastside of Gilterfig. Lackluster intel on the human production world had led them here on their search for knowledge regarding the enemy's home world, and the fact that there was nothing to show for it only angered their commander; who was a very proud Zealot. Of course it would have been easy to find another point of access on the human world, if it had not been for the arrival of a human force, which had beaten back their three frigates. It had been a bold move to lead such a small invading force in the first place, but they had little reason to believe the humans would have responded so swiftly, their sources reckoning that the humans would have this planet set as a throwaway world. Now they could only hope that the fleet would return to pull them from the surface of this filthy world, which stank of the native race's destructive tendencies.

While waiting for their evacuation the commanding Sangheili, Tor'Sala'Zis, had built up a defense around the front of the human factory. Information regarding the arrival of the human ground force had yet to reach him, but they had already anticipated the human presence, and their upcoming attack. If humans were present and the Phantoms didn't return it would be a suicide run to try and travel down the broad streets of the city. Either way the small alien force had no way out of this, unless air support was provided. Only issue that could possibly provide them with an advantage was that humans were always reluctant to destroy their own facilities, and if that was the case today then the proud Zealot would gladly exploit it. _Let them come to me, for I shall show them true military might. By the honor of my ancestors, they will soon learn the fate of those who oppose the Holy Covenant. _

This war had been going on long enough for him to come to the conclusion that the humans were an ignorant race, never willing to prove themselves as anything more than insects that were in need of crushing. They had no pride in themselves as a race, and only a minority of them were willing to go all out in a fight; how very pathetic. Having been a part of many victorious ground campaigns during the course of his life he would not despair over the situation which had been dealt with him. So long as he lived his force would not yield.

_(Such an arrogant species these Covenant are! They don't seem to understand the importance of these humans. They will fight them as the humans fight cockroaches, or cancer, but in the end it will divide, eat, and destroy their entire standard. Heh, hah, ho, ha, he, hi, ho, hah, it makes me laugh that one as incompetent as the human race will be one of the galaxy's greatest empire's undoing!) _

As Tor strolled along his front line of their defense, he managed to hear a distant sound, faint at first, but only grew louder as time progressed. It turned out to be the distinct hum of the humans' own dropships, which ran on louder engines than their own, technologically superior, Phantoms. The humans were making their move, and he could only hope that he held the upper hand. So it was destined that his hand would be forced on the edge of this disgusting facility, something that he thought with extreme distaste. _Let them come to me, so I can give them a taste of what is to come to all who were unfortunate enough to be born into this dirty race._

_(Don't concern yourself with the men of the sky. You're already taken.) _

Roaring the commander awoke the camp, and soon chaos was unleashed as the races scrambled. The alien camp was in alarm at the word of an attack, all the races coming forth to fight for their very lives. It was a diverse race, from small to large, and all of them tried to work together as one unit, but their spirits were universally down, except, of course, for the proud Sangheili, who were ready to die at any given moment. Too bad there were only ten of them in total.

_(Run, run, run, gingerbread men, run, run, run, into the valley of the milk.) _

Getting word from his scouts the commanding Zealot learned that there were five of the human vessels coming at them in a V-formation, which was the standard formation of a human deployment. They probably intended to deploy behind the cover of the buildings, and move their way through them as they attacked. Perhaps they intended to hit the position with rockets and heavy weapon fire before the ground attack; Tor had to guess they didn't intend on destroying the structure entirely, or else no defense was going to hold up.

_(Yoooouuuu-hew will be part of the gar-har-bage.) _

Shouting garbled orders the commanding figure ignited his blade which shone bright in the dim city streets, pointing down the road. Humans had been deposited behind the buildings to the east of the tire factory, and would make their way to the front. The size of the force was unknown, but his pride was unyielding. He'd make sure that the force would fight as hard, and with as much honor as he did. The Covenant forces were infallible under his guidance, at least that's what his command believed so. _I will triumph, they will die. _

_(You don't light the tower when the enemy circles your bay.) _

The Covenant might have been indomitable under his leadership, but in the moments before they were engaged by the marines Tor'Sala'Zis' head exploded in a mass of brain tissue and purple blood. The first victim of the sniper teams on the factory across from them.

_(So much for the famous "I think I can, I think I can" philosophy.) _

-----

Elijah Gomez was a skilled technician and it didn't take him long to establish a full connection between the factory's server and that of the Jamestown. He's always enjoyed tampering with electronics, ever since he was ten his father had brought him home pieces from the scrap yard, which he would assemble and reassemble multiple times. By the time he was fifteen he could typically take these pieces and turn them into working devices. Before this war he wouldn't have actually been placed on the field, because as a soldier he was mighty frail, and his aim wasn't all that great. It was the desperate times that had him suited up in armor, working the controls of this monitor.

_You know you're pathetic when you place arms in the hands of nerds. _

Right now the Jamestown was sucking the factory's hard drive clean of any useful information regarding the location of Earth, or any other key human systems. The connection was simple and reliable, but interference would become frequent once the actual conflict had begun. The transmissions would take longer to relay and all sorts of shit could happen during that time. He could hear the cracking of rifles as they discharged their lethal rounds in the direction of the enemy positions, the low rumble of approaching pelicans making its way in the building as well. So far it was just a duel between the enemy snipers and their own, which didn't cause any systems to really get knocked out of whack, but once that main assault had begun plasma had a way of distorting the signals sent out by this old equipment.

_Yeah, work the circuits all you want, you'll die once you really get out. Luckily you won't be getting out for some time. Lucky, lucky Gomez. _

"Gro-Gomez-_errrrrrsh_," his ear piece spit out full of static, "_Grrrr_-et down here right _skreeesh_ now!" The voice was agitated, but it was even more confused. There was something that someone didn't understand and screamed for immediate assistance.

"Shit," the private muttered to himself, the basic radios were getting fuzzy and he was only on the second floor. Even with the voice masked by static he could recognize the corporal. Whatever it was he needed to respond, so he left his gear running, scooped up his SMG and made his way to the lobby. Had to be damn important since Luke knew the importance of relaying all the information back to the Jamestown; normally he wouldn't dare interrupt his work.

_Yes please, get out of the circuits and bring him to me. _

_----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

**Author's Note: This is the first _serious_ fan-fiction I've posted not pertaining to the _Alien_ movie franchise. It has been awhile since I was really into _Halo_, because the excuse for plot an AI in the third game seriously came close to killing the series for me, but thank God the first game kicks so much ass. I hope you enjoy this story, because I know some of you all who read it won't get some of it. Don't lie some of you are going "Glass in eyes, WTF?" right now. Hell, I don't even get some of that mysterious dialogue thrown in at convienent locations, but I can assure you this all comes together as plot moves on. I think I have one, or two more parts to the Battle of Gilterfig, and will try to post them as soon as possible. **

**If you have anything to say please leave a review. If you have any questions leave them in your review. **

**Thanks for reading, sincerely,  
Reef **


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 1 **

**Battle at Gilterfig **

**Part 2: Taking Care of Business **

Bravo 012 circled above as the assault began. The flare of automatic weapons was overwhelming as the marines stormed the disorganized foe, which judging by the reports had just lost their leader. Snipers had done their job well, and most of the turrets were out of commission, and none of the remaining aliens seemed to want to take their comrades' place in the seats. They had less chance of being sniped in a group than if they sat in the chair of one of the two turrets, which made for an ideal target for human snipers.

It looked good until the doors of the building opened up and the marine forces scurried out of the way as green streaks of plasma erupted out of the opening

"Aww shit, we got Hunters down there," Lieutenant Henderson said looking out from the cockpit of his craft, motioning to his navigator. He switched on his intercom, sliding on his sunglasses before he did so. "Major Tyler, we got Hunters down there. Wishing to engage, repeat, wishing to engage, over."

"Do you have a shot?"

The pilot looked out again seeing that they were still under the safety of the building's overhang, making it impossible for him to lock in from the angle.

"Negative sir, the sons of bitches are packed under roof, but if I could get down into those city streets I reckon I could get a nice burst off with the chain gun—"

"Negative, Bravo 012, we cannot afford the loss of a single Pelican. You are forbidden from decreasing altitude, is that understood Bravo 012?"

"Yes sir," Henderson said through clenched teeth.

"Sir, we can engage them if they get out in the open," the navigator interjected.

"Of course I knew that," Henderson barked back.

He switched the com-channel, switching through the listings of channels currently in use by the marines on the ground. Hunters were dangerous, especially if they stayed cooped up inside that building. So long as they stood firm they were a living wall, complete with firepower.

"Captain Elm, this is War Hawk. Say again: This is War Hawk, do you read me?"

He waited for the commissioned officer's response. Right now Captain Elm was the commanding officer, and hopefully he hadn't fallen, because they didn't want to take the time to find out his next in command.

"This is Elm," a static clouded voice croaked. "What took you so long, War Hawk? We got Hunters rammed up our ass and you're up their flying in circles!"

"Sorry, Ground Team, but we have orders to stay put, and those slimy bastards are staying under the roof."

"Oh that's just fucking great! We don't have rockets, War Hawk, and none of us has a clear shot at 'em…what does command want?"

"Will try and get you a response," Henderson replied and shut off the link.

-----

Mar'Lih'Tis fired his carbine from behind an overturned piece of human machinery. One of the human marines who had tried to run behind the frame of a vehicle fell grasping his throat, but he wasn't dead. The elite looked down the sight again and finished it with a clean shot to the head, which the glowing green projectile easily pierced.

The young Sangheili warrior was the in the Covenant's reserve, and wore blue armor to signify his low rank. This was the fourth battle he'd taken part in against the humans, and he'd already killed many, but not enough to prove him an asset.

The hunters kept firing, human projectiles bouncing off their armor plates, and massive shields. Every time they returned fire the humans would scatter offering the eager Mar'Lih'Tis another shot. The pattern would repeat, over, and over again, but it was only a matter of time before the humans were forced to adapt.

"You waste your ammo, brother." A large hand gripped his shoulder. "One shot is all it should ever take for these creatures."

Another Sangheili stood behind him, this one being in red armor, a plasma rifle held loosely in his right hand. Hej'Wef'Tris had taken command of the reserve, and remaining Covenant forces upon the death of their commander Tor'Sala'Zis.

"Forgive me for my waste," Mar replied, not turning to face his fellow elite. He was still crouched, holding the carbine's scope to his eye, waiting for another human to cross his path.

"Our supplies run thin, young Mar'Lih'Tis. It will not be long before these humans execute a new strategy." He squeezed the younger male's shoulder. "You know what to do when the Mgalekgolo fall to the human numbers."

-----

"This is Captain William Defoe contacting Bravo 012. Do you still need information on the engagement, over?"

Lieutenant Henderson slapped his navigator's shoulder hollering in excitement, switching his com-channel to that of the commanding officer's.

"Yes sir, yes sir, this is Bravo 012 reporting in, and we do still need some advice down here." Switching on the screen on the switchboard in front of him the images of the enemy position appeared for him to go over while he spoke. "Alright, Captain Defoe, we got Hunters down there, and the ground force doesn't have rockets. We don't think these guys have any intention of moving any time soon, so we wish to be granted permission to descend and engage these things. Pardon the language, but our guys are having the shit knocked out of them."

There was a pause before the captain responded. Relay time between planet and atmosphere always sucked during battle situations.

"Negative, it would be best if the ground team flanked the Covenant position, end of discussion Lieutenant, over and out."

"Fuck!" Henderson shouted slamming his fist down.

He maneuvered the dropship around above the structure, his navigator switching his com-channel so he could concentrate on flying.

"Elm, command wants you to flank the enemy."

"What the hell, we don't have another way in without making one!" The sound of rifle fire caused massive amounts of static, but they pilot could make it out.

"Okay…cover your heads and get away from the entrance of that building."

"What's going on?"

"An accident, so just keep your heads down."

Bravo 012 dipped, decreasing its altitude as it approached the face of the tire factor.

-----

Captain Elm was a middle-aged man, with a considerable gut considering all the exercise he underwent. He wore a marine's standard armor and helmet, his rank not being shown directly to the enemy. Captain George Elm was very popular with the men and women under his command.

The concerned officer hadn't quite understood the last remark from the dropship pilot, but he did hear about flanking. That was out of the question. This was meant to be a quick operation, and if they had to flank the aliens to get within the facility they were screwed, because that could take hours, which they didn't have.

"Captain, look!" a private shouted above the roar of rifle fire.

Looking back he saw the large shape of Bravo 012 moving above the buildings just before her chain gun let loose. The gun was loud, and all barriers between it and the Covenant position quickly crumbled under the pressure of superior firepower.

It was over quick, and the massive gun hadn't hit the Hunters, which now began to open fire upon the human aircraft. The Pelican was too quick, easily dodging the sloppy shots by the large aliens, and soon rising out of their weapons' range.

As the craft rose the men stared in astonishment from behind the safety of a wall. That's when they noticed the pillars holding up the overhang's roof begin to crumble.

"Crazy son of a bitch," Elm muttered, crossing himself instinctively. "Everyone prepare to advance. We're taking that factory."

-----

Mar'Lih'Tis's mandibles flared as he roared, the roof above him falling apart. Quickly he moved, to get away, but the Mgalekgolo never had a chance. They were crushed beneath the weight of the steel structure.

Mar cursed in alien tongues looking back at the crumbled remains of the entrance. The humans were already advancing and he raised his carbine, centering the weapons sight on one of the humans who strode in front of the rest.

A gurgled alien screech caught his attention from behind. He looked back to find one of his small allies, a Kig-Yar major, indicated by his orange tunic beneath his armor. The avian creature also a carbine in his small hands, but he wasn't pointing it in the direction of the approaching enemy force.

"Back," the small alien screeched, "Hej say go back. Retreat now, we retreat."

The larger alien stared for a moment before remembering the orders to fall back, following the alien as it went. He could have responded quicker, but he hadn't expected a Kig-Yar to be a part of the select group. He thought it was just him and Hej'Wef'Tris.

-----

Gladstone indicated to the monitor with "Help Me" typed in bold letters as he moved behind the desk to join the group.

"So, Gomez, what do you make of that?"

The technician went over the computer carefully, looking over the screen and typing in counter words, which activated more text to scroll across the screen.

"I'd say a civilian needs some help," he concluded. "I'd say they're probably on the premises waiting for us to pick them up. This is a local message, meaning it came from a local terminal."

"Where are they?" Gladstone asked, lifting his rifle from the desk.

"Go down the western corridor…and find the science lab."

"Well, I'll do my best," Gladstone replied walking out of the lobby, quickly chambering a round in the rifle.

-----

Henderson laughed in the cockpit of Bravo 012, having just risen back to the proper altitude, where he was once again surveying the battle. Alien bastards hadn't seen it coming at all and thank God for faulty outer rim craftsmanship.

"Bravo 012, are you alright up there?" the radio crackled.

"Oh, yeah, everything's under control up here. We just had a slight engine malfunction, but everything's alright now, and we're set to continue are stay up here as long as you want."

"Alright, Bravo 012, prepare for extraction of UNSC personnel within the hour. Got quite a few wounded down there and it would be nice if you'd give them the assist."

-----

Captain Elm entered the factory and assessed the situation. He'd seen that there were still Covenant in the building, but there was no sign of them now. Bastards must have split up, or retreated…Or maybe they were walking blind into an ambush.

"Bravo 043," he said into his microphone, "any of them seen leaving the building?"

There was a pause.

"Negative, ground team, it's all clear down there."

"Shit," he said aloud, waving in the available marines.

Twenty marines accompanied him inside. He decided to debrief them on what had to be done at this point in time.

"The bastards went running," he announced to the group, "but they haven't left this building. We're going to search them out, hunt them down, and cut them down. We will divide ourselves into groups of three and start searching. Be careful, because these guys have a knack for coming out of now where, and with lots of firepower. Everyone must be on the signal, and within contact of the nearest team. Let's finish this job, and finish it fast."

-----

Bravo 012 set down in the street across from the tire factory and Private Daniel Travis got off. He was the dropship's navigator, though he was rarely noted by the pilot, who almost ignored his existence entirely. Outside he found several sealed sacks, along with a few bandaged individuals, but for the most part it seemed that it was only dead members of the ground force that would be put in the cabin of the ship.

"What do we have here?" he inquired to the sergeant overseeing the act, privates carrying the bags into the ship.

"Twelve dead, six wounded," the sergeant replied pacing back and forth, his rifle shouldered.

"They're all in, Sarge!" a private shouted.

"You better be getting on your way," he said turning from Travis.

As he returned to his seat aboard the bird he heard the door to the cabin seal. He looked over to Henderson with a look of distaste.

"We got quite a few dead men back there."

Henderson waved his hand bringing the dropship to a hover, the landing gears sliding into her sides as it rose.

"Everyone dies, and these boys just weren't as lucky as other people."

Once again Travis was left insulted by the pilot's inability to refer to him by name.

-----

Captain Elm used the torch attachment of his assault rifle to look through the wreckage of the factory. The Covenant had really trashed the place, whether before, or after the battle, he'd probably never know. Wherever the aliens were they were still inside the dilapidated building. They were here somewhere waiting to jump out on unsuspecting patrol.

Including himself there had been twenty-one marines, so they evenly split into groups of three. The building wouldn't take long to search, but he wanted to try and avoid any casualties.

"Hendricks, check out that conveyor belt."

"Yes sir," the private replied moving towards the area.

_Where are they_, the captain thought while turning around to look over the rest of the section. There was a tool rack on the other side of the building, with a large array of wrenches, and screw drivers, but there were also many holes, probably from the marine's own weapons. He remembered using tools such as those to build a tree house back when he was a child living on the outer rim. It had been a nice experience with him and his father. Building a swing set, tool shed where they'd later store the tools which they'd used to build it in the first place. His father had always said to him as a child that even tools liked livin' in a place they had gone and built.

He was broken from his nostalgia when he noticed a puff coming from one of the holes. No, not a puff; feathers. It was then that he noticed a glint of purple behind one of the holes, which had been made during the earlier conflict.

The barrel flashed green.

He hardly felt it enter him, but the pain followed quickly. It had hit him hard in the pelvis, and the officer soon fell, groping at the wound to keep him from bleeding out. The privates were quick to come to his aid, about ten of them had already been on sight and one had already gotten out his medical supplies.

Elm looked up, seeing that the gun, and feathers were gone, but he pointed to the tools nonetheless.

"Over there, go and get them! I'll be fine, just finish the job."

Pain, that's all he could concentrate on, but he wasn't going that let that son of a bitch get away. He had orders to kill every inhuman bastard on this rock and he wouldn't let his own injury slow his men down from their job. He'd be in the Jamestown's medical bay soon enough, he just had to keep himself from bleeding out until then.

-----

The Kig-Yar major scurried from its position chattering silently in amusement on his way to a small garage section of the facility. His aim had been precise, and the round had met its intended target. The human officer had taken it right in his filthy gut. Yes, in a normal situation it would have been best to kill the enemy's commanding officer, but in a situation like this a near fatal wound was ideal. All a part of a plan the alien's had come up with early on in his enlistment regarding humans and their behavior.

Humans just had this thing about caring for their own. If a leader was shot in the head it was over and they'd be angry, they'd soon be in hot pursuit of the shooter. If he injured him severely they'd be split between pursuing the assailant and aiding one of their own. Often they would stop to assist him before chasing the crafty marksmen. This time it seemed they'd taken the bait, but that didn't seem to slow the alien's pace as he dipped, sucked and dived through the wreckage of the factory.

The human officer had been smart. He'd dressed as a common foot soldier, making it harder to pick him out in a group. He wasn't good enough, because certain things caused him to stand out in the group like a drop of blood on a white surface. For one they all seemed to gather to him, often discussing with him, meaning that he had some authority, if not an officer certainly someone significant for their morale. For seconds he wasn't in proper physical shape, having quite the substantial gut. Also, though the alien hadn't been able to tell at first, it was apparent that the human's was also of greater age.

He could've found out quicked if only if he had a human translator. They felt the Kig-Yar race was too insignificant for the use of such technology. Bah! It was just that many less officers the alien would be able to kill.

"Tolk, pull back," the Kig-Yar's earpiece crackled. "We shall fall back through their wretched tunnels, with you behind. Make sure you are not followed."

"Immediately, honorable Hej'Wef'Tris," he replied in a hissing tone, that came out as a whisper.

Tolk –that was the birdlike alien's name– who having always been a forager long before enlistment in the war he'd learned how to work against social weaknesses. Beaten, kicked, dragged through the mud, he'd been a target of torment for a good long while, before his enlistment that is. Now he was one of the most valuable remaining members of the Covenant ground force on the planet.

He was valuable, unlike most other members of his species. He knew how to handle the enemy, the humans, something that most members of the Covenant knew nothing about. His species were fluent snipers, and sharpshooters, but no other of his race had taken a record such as his own. Tolk took out officers, and did so with precision and efficiency that was a notch above most Sangheili.

He was a true case of a rare individual who thrived, and flourished in times of war.

Moving into the garage he cleared the area, lifting the carbine. In the center of the rectangular room was a metal plate. Tolk began to approach it, looking around to make sure that there was no one left to follow him. It would be betraying his superiors if the humans managed to fine their escape route.

There was no one behind him.

Swinging the rifle over his back he reached down with both his clawed hands to grip the sides of the plate. It was time now for a hasty retreat.

Suddenly there was a clang, the sound of debris collapsing and the Kig-Yar turned to face it with a soft squawk of alarm.

"Help, help!" a shrill voice shouted. A stout alien with a large tank attached to its back was running straight towards him, its arms flailing manically.

Tolk cursed under his breath as the small alien ran towards him. An Unggoy, a damned filthy Unggoy here to give his position away to the humans. Bastards weren't good for anything, even something as simple as cannon fodder!

Tolk wasn't strong by most species' standards, but he certainly wasn't weak! When the methane sucking creature approached he reached back, his hand in a fish and brought it into the screaming Unggoy's face, toppling it.

Hissing Tolk slammed his hoofed foot against its chest, his hand clutched the things respirator. The terrified alien put up a fight, but it just couldn't get out from under the stronger Kig-Yar. Before it could free itself the breathing device had been yanked from his jaws, a large spray of methane gas erupting from it as it left. Sure, an Unggoy could have broken free eventually, Kig-Yar after all were rather frail, but it had no chance against his speed. It had taken him a matter of seconds to silently topple the individual and remove its mask.

"Fucking filth," Tolk cursed tossing the device to the side and watching the stout alien squirm, gasping for breath, its large mouth opening and closing, exposing a few sharp teeth. They were even uglier without their masks.

He would have watched the hideous creature die its soundless death, just as a fishermen watched a fish thrash and gasp in silence before finally falling limp and still, if it weren't for the sound of approaching footsteps.

_Humans!_

Tolk turned, grabbing the plate once more and pulling it away revealing a hole leading into a tunnel. The stench was dreadful, and washed over him, but the scavenger had been through worse and had soon dropped through the opening, hands pulled the plate back over the hole as he descended into darkness.

---------------------------------------

**Author's Note: Starting to introduce some new characters, most of which are important to the flow of this story. Most important for me is the reappearance of my original fan character, which I used when I had just started to like write (Lord, it feels like ages). **

**Please review if you have the chance because I'm sure any writers here know how good it is to know that someone actually read their work outside their immediate friend group. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 1 **

**Skirmish at Gilterfig **

**Part 3: Hyper Intelligence System **

Corporal Gladstone moved through the halls of the empty building, inching his way towards the lab where the civilians were supposedly taking refuge. The transmission had only hurt his nerves as he had read it, causing him to worry, which was something he rarely did. The feeling of being weak, useless, that was something that hurt him more than any other…except perhaps for confusion, which is what this current situation had undoubtedly created.

He wouldn't trust anyone who wasn't willing to show themselves to the marines upfront. The Covenant knew English at least, if not more human languages, and the message they received in the lobby could easily be a trap. That is why he had chosen to make his way to the lab by himself. If it was only him than at least the whole building's defense wouldn't fall.

_Why are you all alone, Luke? _

His father had always been a lone wolf, taking the situations into his own hands, refusing aid or back-up. As Luke moved through the empty halls he wondered if he was closer to his father than he'd ever been willing to believe.

_Apple doesn't fall too far from the tree. _

The same father who had always been on active duty, more dedicated to the service than his own family could live within Luke. His father was someone who always managed to get the job done, and was regarded as a hero. Why wouldn't he want to be a hero?

_I'm nothing like him. _

The marine concentrated on the situation, and his priorities. The battle was coming to a close and it wouldn't be long before they were strapped into the bird on their way back to the Jamestown, and then the UNSC fleet. From there they'd be sent on more missions, placed into more difficult situations, which ultimately ended in defeat, each and every time. The Covenant was too strong for one race to fight alone.

_I just wish this was over. Maybe we could go and hide, just hide away from these bastards far away, where they'll never find us. We don't belong in this war, it's like…I don't know what it can be compared to, but it's just not fair! _

He entered another hall and surveyed the scene, eyes looking around each object in his path. Overturned tables, chairs, and with a nice assortment of rocks stacked neatly on top, it made for a cute fortification. All of it was office furniture and decorations, just carelessly piled in various places, with scorch marks and holes.

_Why are us humans such idiots? _

This section of the building had definitely seen action. Plasma burns scorched the sides of the walkway and there were some shell casings –probably sidearm– scattered across the ground. Didn't seem to be much blood, and Luke couldn't quite decide on how that was possible. Regardless, there was only one explanation to the scene that stood before him…

The colonists had put up a fight so that only decreased the chances of him finding any survivors. Any civilians who tried to go up against the alien invaders always ended up dead, and for absolutely nothing. Survivors were always the ones who went and hid away, praying that they may be rescued by their heroic UNSC…their heroes that very rarely made it on time.

The Covenant didn't leave much behind when they were finished with a planet.

"Gomez, don't think I'm going to find much," Luke said into his microphone. "Colonists decided to fight back."

Three times they'd approached planets in need only to find that they'd been glassed by the Covenant fleet. There was never anything left to find. The Covenant made for very efficient exterminators.

"Ah, shit," Gomez replied.

When people died there was often very little the UNSC could do to help them.

"I'll finish my trip to the lab and see what I find."

_**Yes, finish your trip to the lab**_

Making his way forward Luke pondered what condition whoever had sent the message was currently in. Could be injured, could be healthy, or could be dead, and this message was just a recording. Too many possibilities had to be taken into account when evaluating the situation.

_If only they'd given us more information. As it is I have no idea what condition they could be in. These one sentence messages are horrible ways of transferring information! Why couldn't they give some detailed information mapping out how and why they needed help? _

The corporal's thoughts were interrupted as he found the lab. Slowly he reached up and racked his fingers against the glass door. His fingers created a hollow 'clink-clink' as they connected with the door, the sound echoing in the facility's still halls.

_The sound of silence…_

The room behind seemed to be unharmed, so he prepared to enter. He felt he was prepared for anything that may wait for him behind that door, and he wasn't afraid.

_Daddy's boy _

-----

"No humans on approach," Tolk chirped over the Covenant com channel. "I thinks I made it out clean as can be…of course I don't mean literally. These tunnels reek of their waste!"

"Very good, my small ally," Hej'Wef'Tris responded making his way through the sewer alongside Mar'Lih'Tis. "Did any others make it?"

There was a pause on the Kig-Yar's side, followed by a low hiss.

"Humans killed everything. I just managed to get out, but I don't think any others made it. So, so sad, all our comrades have fallen."

"Most honorable of you to show compassion for your fallen brethren, Tolk, but you must keep moving, or else the humans will finish us."

"Of course, Honorable Hej'Wef'Tris, I will make sure these hairless monkeys don't approach upon our rear," Tolk crooned, obviously having quickly discarded any hint of sorrow over the loss of the rest of the Covenant ground force.

"You will meet us at the exit…We will tell you when we _find_ the exit."

-----

The com channel died and the Jackal stood in the dark of the tunnel hissing softly under his breath. Oh yes, he was the only one who'd made it through, he'd made sure of that.

_I made sure that we got away clean, and have assured us that we will make it through this entire ordeal clean. No mess-ups, not when Kig-Yar Major Tolk was around! _

If a fellow Kig-Yar or a Sangheili had come for the tunnel he would've certainly allowed them access to their one means of escape, but an Unggoy?

_Certainly not, just simply unacceptable! Those __**gas-suckers**__ don't deserve to shine my boots! _

The things were worthless in all regards, not only being weak, but incompetent and slow. They were cannon fodder, which meant that just one was not worth having around…even as a barrier.

_The things I do only assist me and my fellow warriors. No need to dwell on the life of one worthless little soldier. For now I must move before I am left behind. _

Tolk followed his comrades' path down the tunnel, looking around to make sure there was no threat to him. He didn't want to move too quickly, should he slip and fall into the tunnel's muck.

_Just no, how could we take such a shameful retreat? Do even the Sangheili lack self-respect in these days of war? I almost wish I'd stayed to put up with the humans…almost. _

It would be disgraceful for him to fall into this stream of human filth. The mere thought of such an event made the alien's skin crawl. Thoughts of the slime getting stuck in his feathers, streaming in to his mouth as he thrashed in its depths, his body consumed and washed away by the brown concoction, where he would drown before finally ending as food for scavengers at the end of the tunnel... Long time ago he'd made an oath never to be dragged into such filth again so long as he lived.

_So primitive, such filthy methods of disposal! It is here to torment me; their stupid waste system is here to humiliate me. Everyone is always out to humiliate Tolk! Should I fall into this solution…_

The thought of such a nasty predicament only managed to bring back even nastier memories of the sharpshooter's past, which he quickly discarded, choosing to concentrate on getting through this battle alive. Survival, survival of the fittest, it was a fun game, and it had no rules, and the young Jackal knew his way through the course.

-----

"Seek them out, comrades," Sergeant Egorov shouted, striding through the rubble of the tire factory. "We mustn't let a single one of these filthy bastards live!"

The Russian member of the UNSC led his platoon into the besieged Covenant position soon after Captain Elm had been wounded and evacuated from the scene. Most of the aliens were dead, but that didn't discourage the sergeant, who was set on exterminating any remaining members of the Covenant, who had killed so many friends, lovers, and family. For him this was a blood war, a matter of honor and passion.

"Seek them out, make sure none of them survive," he shouted firing his assault rifle into the writhing body of a Covenant Elite. "Let their blood run deep into the sewers with the rest of the filth! May none be left without their heads blown in, their bodies unrecognizable to even a long-time lover!"

The sergeant remembered the good days, before the war broke out, and his rage was unleashed on the Covenant's wounded that still inhabited the tire factor. Sergeant Egorov remembered a day when he could walk freely on the shores of an alien beach without worry, a day when he and his wife could share intimate evenings with one another, but no more. The aliens had ruined everything for him and the rest of his race, and for that they would die.

"If they move you fill them with your bullets! If they stay still you still shoot them! There will be no escaping the great UNSC!"

If he were to be the last member of his family left to stand and fight the aliens he would do so with the strength of ten men, and he would make the Covenant pay, one alien at a time . They'd suffer for what they had done, one day or another they would all suffer. The day would come when the human race, lead by the proud UNSC Marines would strike back against the Covenant and destroy them.

"Spread out, we mustn't leave a single spot unsearched!"

As he moved he came to the workshop where he found one of the Covenant's grunts.

"Son of a bitch," he whispered.

Such a rotten, dirty creature these grunts were. It was a complete disgrace of such a technologically superior adversary. They could possess weapons which overcame their own rifles, yet they'd turn and run at the first sign of danger.

Looking he saw that the beast's mask had been removed, showing its disgusting, misshapen mouth, gasping for its precious methane. Reaching into his coat the sergeant pulled his pistol from its holster.

"Die you fucking pig!"

The round from the marine's sidearm obliterated the alien's small head, splattering its fluorescent blue blood and brain tissue across the room's concrete floor mixing with spilt oil, and other substances that had coated the factory floor, the solution soon turning more brownish-black than blue.

Smiling the sergeant moved forward kicking the grunt's body aside to examine the scene.

"Call the Pelicans; tell them to sweep the area! We'll get any runners, for no one escapes our wrath, not today!"

The enemy was defeated, destroyed by their human adversaries. For this there would be much rejoicing and celebration for their victory here today. They had won, without aid by air, or the help of one of the precious Spartan IIs. Today the victory belonged to the marines.

"It is a good day to be alive."

As the sergeant surveyed the scene, picking off the Covenant's wounded he never managed to catch a glimpse of the iron plate in the middle of the workshop's floor.

-----

The lab was unnaturally quiet as Luke entered. When he had opened to door the sound seemed to echo on for ages. There was no sign of movement, or evidence to support someone taking refuge in the confines of the room. They should have run a test to see if there were any life-signs in the building, but this seemed like the better solution at the time…probably was still the better solution considering the time it would've taken to scan them and then have to go get them.

_Shit, a dead end. _

The computers were on, and he noticed the message that had been sent to the lobby was typed across the screen. Approaching the large monitor he cursed himself for not instantly looking upon its screen when entering the room. It was all there, the message and information that lead to the lab, now it was just a matter of finding out what had delivered the message to his team.

He reached down to type in the commands. It was a simple matter of tracking the message's source within the room, because the computer would list whether or not a human operator had accessed the mainframe recently to send the code.

"_What took you so long, Luke?" _

A female voice blared through the speakers all around him.

The marine reeled back, lifting his rifle. Eyes looked around the room, searching for the source of the voice. He didn't look long, because a cylinder shape in front of him flickered, a shape materializing in the light.

_It's a hologram!_

The shape was that of a shapely woman, probably in her twenties, appearing in a shade of dark blue. Her hands rested on her hips, a broad smile gracing her face as she –the image– looked at him, tongue flicking out against her lips.

"_I thought you'd never show up for poor little me," _she sighed brushing her short hair aside from her shoulder, turning her back to him. She had an incredibly charismatic voice, very delicate, yet very firm. _"You marines spend too much time with your guns. Come on, let's take some initiative." _

"You, sent the message…?"

"_Why of course I did. I am in need of rescuing, and you'll just have to do." _

The image winked at him, sitting down and fixing its face in his direction. The marine hated having a machine do something no real woman had ever done to him before. It almost turned his stomach to be mocked like this.

_She's a God damned A.I., Jesus Christ, I've been wasting all this time down here because of a fucking computer! _

"We're not responsible for rescuing computers," he stated firmly. "We are under order to destroy all programs with enough information to endanger the human race."

She seemed surprised by this, pulling her hand to her chest in shock.

"_Oh, but Corporal, I am so much more than your simple factory Artificial Intelligence. I am special. I'm an experimental project that could change the war for our side. You need to understand that I am probably the most important thing a grunt, such as yourself will ever set his eyes on!"_

She placed her hands against her hips again, once again managing to anger him by the perversion of human beauty…because she was beautiful, probably more so than any human ever could be.

"_Listen, my name is ALICE, and I am the newest of systems, and I study and learn everything I see and hear about the Covenant. You just have to take me away and return me to the mainstream so I may continue learning! I could find a weakness in their structure, something that we could exploit. Do you honestly want to be known as the idiot marine who cost the human race the war?" _

Gladstone had patiently listened, and had actually believed what this Alice said, but he wasn't going to break protocol simply because this thing said she was worth the UNSC's time. He had to confirm it.

He reached to his helmet, turning on the com channel. The blue, female figure continued staring at him, her 'eyes' connecting with his, causing his mind to wander.

"Gomez, this is Gladstone. I need a link to the command shuttle right away."

-----

Mar'Lih'Tis followed Hej'Wef'Tris, clutching his carbine and ready to be put back into the fight. He had felt insulted when his superior opted for the Kig-Yar, that Tolk, to distract the humans over him. Their life was placed in the hands of a member of an inferior species, but it was not for him to question his commander's decision. It was now that he must prove himself to the ranks.

"Brother, there is an exit here," the commanding Sangheili barked indicating to a ladder attached to the side of the tunnel's wall. "Surely we are far enough away from the battleground to flee from these accursed tunnels."

"That sounds correct."

The younger of the two reached the ladder first, gripping the sleek railing and pulling his massive frame up while Hej'Wef'Tris waited below. Slowly the one in red grabbed a plasma grenade and placed it by the bottom of the exit, causing the other to look down at him.

"Why do you leave that here?"

"So our ally Tolk knows when to get out."

The blue clad alien grumbled lifting the manhole leading out of the sewer.

_More kindness towards that damned Kig-Yar. _

-----

Private Gomez ran the link with the corporal through their satellite as he tried to establish contact between him and the Jamestown. Gladstone hadn't stated why he needed the connection, but he had mentioned it as being a mission priority regarding the situation in the laboratory, so Gomez had gone along with it.

He walked to the balcony where their satellite dish was kept, alongside Private Quinn. She was behind the trigger of an M247 machine gun. The stationary machine gun could provide plenty of covering fire, raining .30-caliber rounds upon the enemy. They'd set it up just in case any aliens were to try and escape down the road.

"Oh yeah, girls with guns are so hot," he commented as he stepped over her.

"Oh, wouldn't you love me to fall into one of your little fantasies, Gomez."

"Who said you weren't already there?"

"When do we get off this dirt heap?" Quinn asked ignoring his last comment, her head tilting to the side to acknowledge Gomez's presence. Her lips had formed into a smile as she looked at him.

"Soon as the dropships get us, that's when we get off."

He could feel his cheeks turn red as he saw her expression, so he turned to face the machine. Slapping the side of the communication device Gomez sighed in relief as the lights flashed green.

"You're good to go, corporal," he stated loudly into his microphone.

-----

"_How dare you doubt me?" _the A.I. cried, crossing her arms over her chest. She was pouting. _"I'm telling you that I know things that are invaluable to human forces." _

Gladstone didn't respond to her protests, switching his helmet on as he got a link to the command shuttle. He had to lock her out and now think of it as an individual.

"Corporal Gladstone, this is command. What is it that you have done there, over?"

"I've got an A.I. here saying that it contains valuable information regarding the Covenant forces. Says she's some sort of experimental model and-"

"There are no military operations in that colony, corporal. You are to follow orders and destroy any program that could contain the location of Earth, over."

He nodded in agreement. It had been a quick conversation, but he had gotten what he needed to know, so now it was time to take action.

"Understood command, I will execute immediately, over and out."

"_You can't destroy me!" _

"Orders are orders," he said pulling a small hacking device from his pack before approaching the computer terminal.

"_Listen I can make it worth your while if you allow me to continue my existence!" _

He ignored the shouts, moving to the monitor. He cracked to case and looked into the interior of the device. This would be quick, just a matter of seconds to be precise.

"There's nothing you can give me."


End file.
